


This child is not witch

by tothemovies (jayjem_jam)



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations
Genre: Gen, Stressed Out Twelvie, doctor haruno!!!, doting awkward single father sook, featuring boruto in arm sling, i just like to see sarada panicking in front of scarie uchihas, let itachi fuss over her!!, uchiha clan raising A Single Child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 15:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21430591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayjem_jam/pseuds/tothemovies
Summary: “This child is not witch,” she says, into abject silence. “I’m - uh - this child...is yours. Not witch, not anything else. Just me. Sarada. Hope we can work with that.”Her parents look once at each other, and then at her. There is nothing but endless love and acceptance in their eyes.“You’re our kind, Sarada-chan,” Mama winks at her.“- and we look after our own, always,” Papa solemnly squeezes her back, eye soft. “Go on, keep going.”
Kudos: 35





	This child is not witch

**Author's Note:**

> wanted to write fluffy uchiha fic for the soul and then i realised i can just do that and so i am feeding me and anyone else who is an uchiha stan 
> 
> alternative title was actually: In Which Sarada Destroyed Boruto's Arm and Found Out Her Family Lineage Might Not Entirely Be Witchery and Magic, But With A Dashing of Monster Strength

Let's evaluate the situation: 

  * Boruto is in the sick bay.

Less than ideal, but when isn’t he here?

  * Sarada put him there. 

Inching towards bad, potentially life-threatening.

  * Somebody from the family is coming in as her guardian 

She knows her list of guardians is notoriously long and depending on her conduct, the collective Konoha Academy staff will ordain a number that either will see her off the hook or see her dangled on a hook and tossed out to be the piranha’s afternoon snack. 

Worse.

Her aunt, Uchiha Naori, steps in the infirmary, long peacoat sweeping in with a waft of potent homemade perfume, something that Auntie Izumi was brewing in the southern wing the last time she visited the compound. A charm to help ward off men. Or evil spirits.

In Sarada’s household, those two aren’t always mutually exclusive, so the general purpose of the charm is still mostly functional and the same.

But she digresses.

Aunt Naori is here, which can only mean one thing -

It’s looking really, truly, fully, like a Worse Case Scenario. 

“Uchiha,” her aunt smiles at her, zero teeth shown, but she might as well had bared her fangs at her. “Sarada,” she continues, putting the fear of the wrath of the one to follow in her heart. “What a naughty child,” she tuts her tongue. “What will your grandmother say?”

Oh no. That’s fully The Absolute Worst. Zero contender to it.

Positive that she had just put an oppressive amount of fear and trauma into a thirteen year-old, Aunt Naori steps aside so that The Real Threat, Uncle Itachi, can enter, looking frazzled and worried and -

“Oh dear,” he fusses, as he takes note of how Boruto’s arm is in a temporary, emergency sling and she is without a scratch on her physical body. “Are you hurt, Sarada?”

She shakes her head, and pulls herself up straighter. No breaking into tears in front of uncle. Or he will frown, and then be sad.  _ No, don’t do it, Sara, you are bigger than a few scared tears Naori put into your head.  _

“I hurt Boruto,” she admits straight off the bat. “I didn’t mean to - I can’t control it well enough, so that’s why -”

Her aunt and uncle both pause in their hushed conversation, black eyes turning to face her.

“Control it?” Naori lifts a neatly drawn eyebrow.

“Control  _ what,  _ Sarada,” Itachi bends his knees, so that their faces are at the same level and she can see the stress lines under his eyes. “What happened to Boruto, Sarada?”

Boruto, because he’s been awake for quite a while now, snorts from his bed. “Sarada happened to Boruto.”

She takes back the Grandmother Is Disappointed In You scenario being The Worst, because this is dethroning that one and she needs to go find a cave and hide in it, for five hundred years. The corners of her mouth start to shake, as she tries, and fails, to tamp down the burgeoning panic rising in her throat. Oh no. What if she throws up?

Or worse - what if she cries? In front of Uncle Itachi?

Bad thought. Bad thought. Incredibly Bad Thought. Go away.

“Witches don’t,” Naori looks at Itachi, “start out with monster strength, do they?”

“No,” Itachi presses his lips tightly together, worry etched across his brow. “No they don’t.”

This is lunch, but her worrywart uncle decides that her education is mostly a farce and largely a state-obligated nagging from law-abiding and human-assimilating family members, henceforth under strict emergencies, is she to be removed from educational establishment.

Even to Sarada, it does seem a little bit like an emergency. An outbreak of an unknown power in a prominent witch coven in Konoha? They’ll lose clientele and grandfather’s police force will have to come and wrangle out the truth from everyone. It’ll all be a big bureaucratic mess if they don’t covet her now.

“We’re going home,” Uncle Itachi decides, with Aunt Naori leaving first, to fetch her bike. “Apologies for this, Young Master Hyuga.” 

“Ah,” the blonde boy waves his other hand away. “She deserved that win anyways. Good game, Uchiha.”

Her fear momentarily suspended, she nods at him, like two kendo opponents who just finished a fair match and it was largely a test of skill, not a game to wrench violent victory out of. 

“To you too, Hyuga brood,” she returns solemnly, as her aunt cackles at the both of them over their heads.

“Come,” Uncle Itachi serenely ignores the commotion, mostly because he exists on a plane ‘untouched by us lowly mortals and our grubby hands’ - a direct quote from Uncle Shisui, herds her and Aunt Naori out the door, where the light of a portal flickers fluorescent aquamarine, awaiting their entrance.

“Is Uchiha in trouble?” Boruto hollers from his sickbed.

“No,” she immediately denies, because  _ she can’t be, right?  _

A look at her aunt and uncle tells her that she could be proven wrong on that front. 

“Slight revision,” she tells her friend before she steps through and disappears. “Maybe I am!”

What he yells in return is lost as she steps into the empty courtyard of her grandmother’s open  _ dojo  _ hall, grandmother herself sipping tea, eyes closed, as she and her relatives enter from thin air. 

“Children,” Uchiha Mikoto smiles, eyes still closed. “Sarada. You’re early.”

Sarada fears for the worst.

Uncle Itachi reports, like a lieutenant would to a war general, before setting out to battle - “Sarada had been exhibiting strange abilities at school. Naori and I had presently fetched her from class. She will be under our immediate care until we locate the exact origin of her burst of unknown...and un-witch-like powers.”

Grandmother opens her eyes.

_ Yep,  _ Sarada laments, thinking about how her group project will have to go on without her,  _ worst case scenario.  _

Grandmother, as the perfect example of a witch, needs not physically assess her to gather the necessary information of  _ what  _ is wrong with her. She sits, the empty hall whistling with spring breeze through the screen doors, her uncles crossing their legs outside, as grandmother closes her eyes and searches through Sarada’s head of the past events leading to Boruto’s injury.

Injuries. His arm was broken, but then it healed, and bruised. Two types of injury, is that not? Broken arm and bruising skin. Either way, there had been an attempt of disastrously awry arm wrestling, and she would never -

“Do not attempt this test of strength again,” Grandmother pronounces upon her presence, as she resurfaces from Sarada’s mind scape.

She thinks that’s very fair. She will not be touching anyone in the foreseeable future, if she is allowed outside of the family compound at all. Magic, by her clan’s traditions, is generated by sight and tapping into  _ yin  _ energy. There exists no need for physical contact beyond the necessary self-defense and combat drills as her clan also specialises in swordsmanship. Her manifestation of raw, destructive and combative strength is puzzling on top of the clear redundancy of this extra feature in her creation. What use would a witchling have in combative strength? They value efficiency as a clan, and while that had been mostly loosened up ever since she had been brought up, this tradition still mostly prevails in her daily routines.

“I will not, My Lady,” she bows to her predecessor. “Um, then, do you know what’s wrong with -” she gestures to herself, blinking wide and confused eyes.

Mikoto blinks slowly once, and laughs very gently at her.

Not at  _ at  _ her, but to her. It wasn’t a rude laugh. Grandmother is rarely ever rude.

“Darling, my little peanut,” Grandmother reaches over to grasp at her hand, warmth transferring to her skin, magic alive in her veins. “There is nothing wrong with you. What is right with you, Sarada, is the question. To which I believe your father has the answer to.”

For the second time that day, she is accosted by an older authority figure, Papa turning her this way and that to inspect her shoulder and arms, see that there is nothing wrong with her visibly. Heaving a significant sigh, he holds her at arm’s length, inspecting her bespectacled eyes, her eyes mimicking his rapid blinking, as he pokes her forehead with two fingers, fondly scolding her cheek.

“Heard you got in a fight,” he begins, voice even.

She can’t help but deflate a little.

“Erm. Yes,” she hedges. “Does...does everyone know?”

He snorts. “Who doesn’t know, is the question.” 

She wilts, like a neglected house plant. He pats the top of her head, his uncovered eye searching her emotions amusedly. She’s not in trouble. She’s not in trouble?

“I’m not in trouble?” She voices aloud, because third time's the charm. 

“Far from it,” Sasuke rises to his full height. “Come. I want you to meet someone. I’ve been hiding you from her.”

  
  


Okay, so, technically, she had met Doctor Haruno. Every child this side of Konoha had met the Good Doctor. It’s their induction to life. They meet her and they all want to be like her when they grow up. That’s just how it is. 

Doctor Haruno is as far as she is aware, without children, which, fair. Her work schedule is apparently hellish and Shino-sensei praises his friend for having the stamina to balance work and life and her health on top of it. It’s rightly insensible to demand a family on top of that as well. She’s a woman, not a work machine.

So, as papa takes her to the Doctor’s office, she cranes her neck to him, rightly puzzled.

“Why,” she tugs on a sleeve. “Why are we here?”

“To see Sakura,” he answers simply, and cryptically, because papa never answers anything.

As they push their way in - how is it empty at the clinic at the time - she startles. He called Doctor Haruno  _ Sakura.  _ How close are  _ they?  _

Doctor Haruno is not surprised by their visit. It could mean that she is actually psychic, or the messenger hawk had been much faster than papa’s portal. Either way, she stands, pleasantly extending out her arms for an amicable hug to papa and bending down to Sarada, smiling widely at her suttered and stilted hello.

“Sarada,” Doctor Haruno beams. “I heard you got into a fight with Boruto-kun.”

Everybody actually  _ knows  _ and she is  _ humiliated.  _ Shifting her feet, she mutters to the ground, half clinging onto her father’s sleeve.

“It’s not as if it wasn't fair,” she mutters, as the Doctor barks out a laugh.

“Boruto is quite easy to beat at arm wrestling, don’t worry,” she reassures her, as Sarada tilts unbelieving eyes up at her, squinting in suspicion.

“You know this, how? Do you regularly beat him at this game?”

Doctor Haruno Sakura, the most renowned medic of all across the land, puts a conspiratorial finger to her lips and winks at Uchiha Sarada, witchling of the Uchiha clan. She is reeling a lot inside, with barely a flicker of emotion outwardly. Is that a yes? Is it a no? What is it?

“Don’t tease her,” Papa rumbles from above, endlessly fond. “Sakura, Sarada, meet each other.”

After a pause, he continues, in the tone of one listing off ingredients for the common sleeping draught.

“Sarada, meet your mother.”

The hole in Doctor Haruno’s office - sorry,  _ mama’s  _ \- had been easy to fix, with papa and her magic, under strict supervision. He gives her a gruff acknowledgement of her competence, while still disappointed that she had stomped a hole through a doctor’s clinic consultation room.

She had significantly calmed down but she’s still not processing anything. She - her - Doctor  _ Haruno?  _

_ “I’m  _ ** _the _ ** _ child?”  _ She breathes out in rapid bursts of air, still in shock. “We’re related?”

“Oh you grew up so well,” Doctor Haruno coos at her, pulling a cheek. “Look at you. A carbon copy of every Uchiha I had ever laid eyes on.”

“She has your strength,” Papa slants down an eye. “And we’d like you to train her how to harness it and use it in conjunction with her magic.”

She blinks. This is - she’s not in trouble. She’s on the other end of the spectrum. She departed the spectrum. This is literally everything that is  _ not _ being in trouble. _ _

“Indeed,” the Good Doctor winks at her, full of mirth and barely contained excitement. “First of our kind, hey, Sarada-chan?”

“Our...kind?” She echoes back, still reeling from the whole day’s worth of surprises. “There’s...our kind?”

“Of course,” mama beams back at her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t raise you directly after all those years, but your family had decided that it was best for you to be with raised with your clan, and I had the utmost trust that they would be able to raise you more than adequately, therefore there was no need for this surrogate to enter the fray. Now that you are becoming more like me through the days, it is more than adequate that you train under my care, is it not? We’ll have fun, Sarada-chan.”

“Oh,” she lets out. “Yes. Yes, that will be...nice. Having fun.”

“She’s not used to having fun,” Papa informs Doctor Haruno -  _ mama -  _ solemnly.

There is another wink shared between them.

“No, I don’t believe she does. Your clan is very big on austere and seriousness, are you not, Sasuke-kun?”

Papa sighs, a hand on her shoulder now. He nudges her forward.

She, in her brilliant moment of shining revelation, blurts out - 

“This child is not witch,” she says, into abject silence. “I’m - uh - this child...is yours. Not witch, not anything else. Just me. Sarada. Hope we can work with that.”

Her parents look once at each other, and then at her. There is nothing but endless love and acceptance in their eyes.

“You’re our kind, Sarada-chan,”  _ Mama  _ winks at her.

“- and we look after our own, always,” Papa solemnly squeezes her back, eye soft. “Go on, keep going.” 

**Author's Note:**

> let women!! be successful career people!!!! before claiming that motherhood is the end of a woman's professional career and ambitions!!! 
> 
> if you do want to see more of me, heed: [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hozukitofu) and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jenny_benny)! i have a writing [twitter](https://twitter.com/jayjem_jam) if anyone is interested in more bs or we can just vibe in the void together


End file.
